


Everyone's A Building Burning (With No One to Put the Fire Out)

by lewisandharold



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Drug Use, M/M, Theft, addict!louis, bipolar!zayn, idk man they sure get into a lot of trouble for being about 16/17??, stoner!niall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:24:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lewisandharold/pseuds/lewisandharold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Zayn is an improperly medicated bipolar kid, Louis is addicted to meth, Liam has a quick hand, Harry is a walking accident, and Niall just wants to blaze.</p><p>-or-</p><p>Zayn and Louis steal a car and meet some new friends in the classes they take to erase their felony charges. Life is never really the same after that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tsunami Tides

**Author's Note:**

> based on a true story

Zayn’s pill bottle is empty. He can feel the mania creeping in, but he is just going to go with the feeling. He hasn’t had his lithium in days, but Louis called last night, so he is going to ride the wave. He knows that the wave will only lead him crashing back to shore and then cover him with sand and shells of regret, but he doesn’t care. He grabs his keys and checks his phone for the address texted to him shortly after a three a.m. conversation with his old friend and heads out the door. His mother calls after him, warning him to be careful, because he’s only seventeen. He told her he was going downtown to busk with his guitar, but he thinks she knew that was a lie.

When he puts in the address in his GPS and follows the directions, he ends up in a seedy part of town. His tires crunch on the loose gravel of an extended-stay motel parking lot and he notices faded Halloween decorations fluttering in the breeze. This must be the place. He heard from a mutual friend that Louis had been kicked out of his house, but he still feels surprised that the same boy he had known for years would end up living in a place like this. But the both of them chose their own paths, Louis following gangs down back alleys and Zayn ascending the steps of college. They were equal at this moment, though. Zayn brought himself down to Louis’ level the moment he answered the phone in the early hours of the morning.

It wasn’t as if Zayn was here to intentionally wreck everything he worked hard to build. Louis had come to him asking a simple favor, something about a sick dog that needed veterinary care, and Zayn had no choice but to agree to help. But as Louis came stumbling out the front door of one of the rooms, a frown carved deep into his features, he couldn’t help but wonder what he got himself into. Louis looked bad. Really bad. He still had a terrifying beauty, but the light had faded from his eyes. The boy swaying on his feet with a cigarette between his lips was not His Louis.

His Louis sat with him in the back of science class, folding paper cranes and closing out the world. His Louis marveled at little things like flowers and the dust that they watched float through the afternoon sun while they lay on the carpet of Zayn’s bedroom.

The Louis standing before him, ignorant to Zayn’s presence, looked like he might not believe there was any beauty left in the world. His gray jeans, meant to be cut tight, clung lamely to his wide hips. Beneath his threadbare shirt, Zayn thought he might see the indication of a rib cage, left hungry and exposed. When this Louis shook out his matted hair and adjusted his stringy fringe, he caught sight of Zayn and waved, a spark coming to his eye.

Zayn got out of the car and embraced his old friend. His throat felt tight as his arms wound too far around the thin boy and felt him trembling.  When Louis drew back and offered Zayn a cigarette, his fingers shook as he opened the carton. Zayn accepted a light and they stood there taking in the smoke and taking in each other.

“You look like you could use a good meal.” Zayn said carefully, glancing at a sharp hip bone where Louis’ shirt rode up.

Louis smiled, but it faltered, “Are you buying?” Zayn nodded. He had about fifty bucks in his pocket that he grabbed on his way out the door. They drove to a little Mexican restaurant down the street and Zayn ordered half the menu for the both of them. From the looks of things, Louis’ next meal may not be for a while. They talked over their meal and Louis described what his life had become. He was addicted to meth. He was sleeping with his drug dealer. He was homeless, staying in this motel with a few of his dealer’s friends. When it came time for Zayn to tell Louis about his own life, he found himself hesitating. Even though Louis had made his own choices, Zayn didn’t want him to feel bad about himself and who he had become, so he downplayed his story. He made it seem like he was living a shitty little existence just like Louis. And it really seemed to make him feel better.

Zayn finally noticed that Louis hadn’t touched his food when he was scraping his own plate. Louis didn’t seem bothered that they had been sitting there for two hours and his food was going cold.

“Are you feeling okay?” Zayn asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I’m good, why?” Louis changed his face into what was supposed to be confusion. He had heard the same question enough times to know how to respond to it.

“Well, it’s just that you haven’t eaten hardly anything.” Zayn said, gesturing to the smothered burrito on the table between them.

Louis looked down, “Oh. Well I guess I just,” He began, before glancing up at Zayn’s face. He saw Zayn narrow his eyes minutely, probing, “Don’t like it. I feel kind of nauseous?” His last words lilted up into a question without his permission.

If it were another day, Zayn might have called Louis’ bluff and made him eat it. But he saw some underlying plea in the other boy’s face that made him drop the subject and pay the bill.

As they got back into the car, Louis reminded Zayn of the puppy he was meant to be saving.

“Right, so what’s the deal, then?” Zayn asked.

“Basically my friend’s aunt has this dog that has Parvovirus and since none of us can afford cars, and you can’t really ride the bus with a dog, I wondered if you could help me take it to the free vet clinic on the other side of town.” Louis answered. Zayn nodded and drove them back to the motel. Louis went on to say that they had to bring his dealer, Stan, along with them. From what Louis had said of him, Zayn was rather hesitant to meet this Stan guy. He was pushing thirty and was sleeping with little seventeen-year-old Louis, the boy who never stopped to question anybody’s motives.

Zayn pulled into the motel lot for the second time that day, only now with the understanding that he would be entering a meth house if he went in.

Louis sensed Zayn’s hesitation, “you don’t have to come in, but I don’t know how long you’ll have to wait if you stay here. Stan is probably sleeping and it takes him ages to wake up. But he’s also a bit of a bear when you disturb him, so there’s that, too.”

“No, no, I’ll come in,” Zayn answered, shaking his head. He had a sick curiosity to see just exactly how Louis lived. He wanted to know, but at the same time he didn’t want to know. Because knowing would make it real. Knowing would incinerate the last shreds of hope that Zayn held that His Louis might still exist. But he got out of the car anyway and walked to the front door.

A plastic grim reaper laughed menacingly in its metallic voice as the front door slid open and Louis ushered him inside. It was, well. It was a meth house, for sure. And possibly and all-encompassing drug house in general, judging by the paraphernalia littering the stained oak coffee table and spilling over onto the floor. The smell of stale bread and perspiration flooded Zayn’s nasal cavity, along with something sharp and chemical. There was a man laying face-down on one of the faded blue love seats in the small front room. Tattoos decorated his skin, some of them concealed by a yellowed wife-beater. A loud snore tore through the room, and it transformed into a grunt as Louis threw himself on to the guy, who must have been Stan. Louis pulled Stan’s hair and perched lithely on his back, whispering in his ear to wake him up. Stan growled and threw Louis roughly off of him, sending him falling to the floor. The back of his head connected with the coffee table and he began to scream in pain, but quickly brought his hand up to bite his knuckle and keep from making noise.

Zayn felt a sudden wave of protective anger and rushed forward to help Louis. He hoisted him to his feet and turned to glare at Stan, “What the fuck, man? You could have really hurt him.”

Stan finally sat up and opened his eyes, realizing Zayn’s presence. “Who the fuck are you?” Louis squirmed free of Zayn’s grip and scuttled over to stroke Stan’s arm.

“Baby, this is Zayn, he’s here to help us take the dog to the vet. That’s okay, right?” Louis said, trying to sooth Stan. His voice was soft and tender in a way it shouldn’t be towards someone who just threw him into a table. Zayn scoffed. His Louis would have gotten up off the floor and yelled at Zayn if he had done the same thing. The two boys had a quiet, muttered conversation obviously not meant for Zayn to hear, so he plopped down in a burgundy recliner on the other side of the room.

When Louis took a seat on the other couch, Zayn caught sight of the scowl Stan was giving him. Not one to be intimidated, Zayn slowly took out his pack of cigarettes, lit one, and blew the smoke in the other boy’s direction without breaking the heated eye contact. Stan looked away and sunk deeper into the cushions.

Zayn stared at the wall while they smoked meth. He heard Louis cough a couple times, but he refused to look. After that, they piled into Zayn’s car. He wasn’t sure why he let Stan drive. The following hours were spent in a blur of lights and thumping bass. The mania he felt was something he had almost forgotten, but in the moment, he realized he had missed the bitter taste of the biological chemicals flooding his system. He let it overwhelm him. Riding the wave felt nice while he was on it, but just like every time before, he washed up on the sand, broke and confused.

\-----------------------

In this instance, shore was the corner of 19th and Larimer, downtown. Louis was behind the wheel of his car and he was in the passenger seat, holding a rucksack stuffed with all the belongings of his car, and his guitar sitting in his lap. Louis looked over at Zayn and smiled mischievously.

“All set, then?” Louis asked, patting Zayn’s shoulder.

“Yep. Make sure and call me when the money comes in.” he replies, and Louis nods. “Be careful, okay? I love you, mate.” Louis nods again and Zayn sees a hint of wetness in the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t mention it. As he gets out of the car and waves Louis goodbye, Zayn tries to remember how he got there.

\-----------------------

“Where are you?” his mother yawns over the gritty cellphone connection. It was almost half-one in the morning.

“I’m downtown, on the corner of nineteenth and Larimer,” he replied, trying not to let his voice shake, “Where are you?”

“Sixth and Broadway. I had a bad feeling so i came down to look for you. Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

“I was uh... just busy,” Zayn pauses to take a steadying breath. “I lost the car.” It feels like ages before his mother answers.

“As in, you forgot where you parked?” she asks innocently. Zayn realises in this moment that he is a terrible person. It wasn’t his car to give away; it was his mothers. The pitiful way he rationalized it to himself doesn’t make any difference. It didn’t matter that the car was supposed to be repossessed the next day, he had assisted in automotive theft nonetheless, and he was a felon now. And his mother was on the other line, speaking to him nicely with no clue how awful he was.

He had waited too long to answer by then. “I’ll explain when you pick me up,” he said lamely, hanging up the phone. His mother pulled up by the curb a moment mater and he grabbed his belongings from where they were sitting on the sidewalk. He hoped he was a good enough actor, because the story he gave his mother would be the grand finale. Zayn loaded his stuff into the back seat and made a show of using short, jerking movements. He forced his hands to tremble more than they already were. As he slid into the passenger seat he opened his restless eyes wide and curled in on himself.

“Honey are you okay?”

“No,” he said, trying to make the quiver of his voice more pronounced. “What time is it? I don’t know what's going on right now.”

Zayn glanced over to see his mother’s worried expression, “It’s quarter-to-two in the morning. Where have you been?”

“I don’t know...” he whispered. Lie.

“What do you mean?” she questioned, voice creeping higher with worry.

“I mean i can’t remember. I don’t know how I got here, or where I’ve been.” Lie.

She was silent for a moment as she merged onto the highway. “Is this a manic episode? You weren’t with Louis and his lot, were you?”

“No,” Zayn lied, but then realized he didn’t sell it well enough so he had to backtrack. “I’m not sure, maybe. I don’t remember.” Lie. Lie. LIE.

“What happened to the car? You were just supposed to be down here busking.”

“I think i might have gone to a party?” He knew it was really stupid to cover up a lie with another lie, but he needed her to believe that something out of his control had happened.

“Oh my God, Zayn! What were you thinking? Did you do any drugs?” his mother was almost in hysterics and Zayn hadn’t rehearsed how to answer that question well enough, so he stuck to silence and shaking like a leaf. “Did somebody roofie you? Is that why you can’t remember?” And of-fucking-course she would think that. The same had happened to her. Zayn really didn’t want to use such a potent lie against her, but he was left with no choice. He wouldn’t have said it on his own, but if it was presented to him as a cover story, he had to take it.

“Yeah. I think I might have been,” He said quietly, looking out the window on familiar streets. They seemed foreign to him now that he was a lying, stealing, criminal. He was thankful his mother didn’t ask the next question that usually follows the roofie question, because he wasn’t sure how he would answer.

The rest of the ride home was silent, but when they pulled in the driveway his mother took his hand and looked deep into Zayn’s eyes, probing. It was hard not to look down or away. He had to be able to look her in the eyes and lie through his teeth if this was going to work. “It will be okay, son,” she whispered seriously, “we can go find the car after we’ve both had some sleep.”

She tucked him in that night, something she hadn’t done in a long time. She cupped his cheek and smiled down at him as he lay in his bed. It was hard for Zayn to even be near her when she was being so soft and kind. When she was so blissfully ignorant. She thought her son had been swept up in the fast city life for a night because he forgot his medication. His poor mother, whose trust he was going to break, kissed his forehead and closed the door as she left.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the darkness of his bedroom.

\---------------------------------

Zayn cracked his knuckles at the stoplight of 104th and Grant while they waited for the light to turn. They had just left the house again to find some lunch after a long morning spent downtown looking for a car that to his mother’s knowledge had simply been misplaced. She ultimately reported it stolen for lack of anything else to do. Suddenly, Zayn caught sight or a familiar flop of chestnut hair. Louis. He held his breath and looked at his mother out of the corner of his eye just as her eyes landed on the boy two cars ahead and one lane to the right in a black Sentra that looked very familiar.

“Is that--”

“Nope.”

“In my--”

“Nope.” And without thinking, Zayn burst out of the car and ran to go get in the other vehicle with Louis. There was some girl there (Shannon, was it?) that Zayn vaguely remembered from last night, but she looked too fucked up to know what was even going on.

“What the fuck-- Zayn! What are you doing here?” Louis asked in shock with wide pupils.

“My mom is in a car back there and she saw you in her car. Quick, jump on the highway!” Zayn nearly shouted. Louis started breathing heavily and stomped on the gas the second the light turned green. Zayn didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, but he could only hope that they could escape his mother. Louis sped down the on-ramp but his mother was tailing them, nearly hitting the back bumper. He could see her shouting through the back windshield.She had her phone to her ear and his own phone was ringing but he shut it off because he knew it was her.

It was the most intense moments of Zayn’s life as Louis wove dangerously through traffic with his mother practically on the back bumper of the car. They made it about five exits down the freeway before Louis finally gave up with a curse and pulled into a parking lot.

Zayn jumped out of the car and tried to intercept his mother’s sudden, blind rage. She was shouting profanities and trying to make a run at Louis.

“What the fuck is going on, Zayn? Why is Louis fucking Tomlinson driving my stolen fucking car?” She yelled. Zayn had never in his life seen her so angry. Louis was shifting from foot to foot next to ‘his’ car.

“You see, it’s actually kind of a funny story--” he began, trying to calm her.

“No, Louis. Whatever this is, its not funny. Zayn. What’s going on?” She asked again, turning a sharp gaze on her son. Zayn didn’t even know where to begin so he stood there with his palms up to pacify her while he thought.

“Hold on, just calm down and we can talk about this, okay?”

No. Not okay. I’m calling the cops,” she spat, pulling out her phone.

Zayn panicked, “Mom, no! Chill out. You wouldn’t call the cops on your own son, would you?”

She looked up slowly, menacingly, “You’re not my son right now. My son wouldn’t do this. That car was supposed to go back to the bank. How strange does it already sound that it went ‘missing’ the day before it was meant to be repossessed? You’re not just in deep shit with me, you’re in deep shit with the law now,” she said, voice now low with anger. “And that goes for you, too, Louis! You especially! You’re not making it out of this, nor your little friend. Louis looked at his shoes, clearly ashamed, while Shannon was busy texting and apparently unaware of the enormity of the situation.

The cops came a while later. Zayn tried to be on his best behavior while they questioned him and eventually cuffed his wrists. It was funny, Zayn thought, he had always wondered how people were able to sit in the police car with their hands cuffed, and now he knew. It was uncomfortable. He was lucky in some sense, because the officers seemed to like him. They didn’t seem to understand how ‘a nice boy like him got mixed up in all of this’, but then again, he himself wasn’t so sure either.

Zayn jiggled his leg and realized as he became short of breath that he still had not taken his lithium. And sitting there in the back of the cop car felt a lot like being forced to an unnatural shore after a tsunami.


	2. Yeah, I Need a Scapegoat Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright so here we are, months later and i have finally updated. my apologies. 
> 
> as you know this is all based on the true story of my life, and its pretty much always this crazy for me
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

     Zayn sat kicking his feet while sitting on the oversized windowsill in his mother's bedroom. He had been worried that there would be no way to mend the previously wonderful relationship he had with her, but he was happy to be proven wrong. It had been a month since she had called the cops on him and Louis, and somehow they were already able to laugh and make a joke about it. He thinks it might have a lot to do with the way the police treated them both as Zayn went through processing for his crime. He cracked a few jokes while getting his prints taken and had a lovely chat with the Cheif of Police about how it is to be an officer. It was all smiles, despite the situation, as they led him out of the county police department. 

     So there he was, lounging in his mother's room on a Wednesday afternoon, telling her about his day and how classes were going while she sorted through some mail.

     "I have a math test coming up pretty soon. I've been studying so hard for that class. Still cant seem to get above a C," he stated, patting the seat next to him in an invitation to his cat. She jumped up and nuzzled into his side.

     "What has your advisor said about that? Should you get a tutor?"

     "Yeah, I might have to. It's a bummer, though. Makes me feel stupid."

     "Oh, knock it off, you know you're brilliant," his mother began, with both exaspiration and a little resignation. "How is art class going?"

     "Really, really well. Crystal says I can come be a guest artist in the studio she rents. I guess they have these big shin-digs every second Friday where a bunch of people come to get drunk and look at cool art and shit," Zayn shrugged, although he had previously bounded down the halls of his college singing  _im a real artist now!_ at the top of his lungs. 

     "That's great honey! Oh and we can--- wait, it looks like you have a piece of mail here from the district attourney," she said, face turning grim. Zayn grabbed it and began to read.

 

 

> _Dear Parent/Guardian of Zayn Malik,_
> 
> _It has come to the attention of the Adams County district that Zayn Malik has a pending felony charge for Motor Vehicle Theft. Upon reviewing his case we have determined that he is a good candidate for the program we offer which allowes at-risk youth the opportunity to get a good start by clearing their records. given the fact that he is a minor with no other outstanding charges, we would like to extend an offer to involve him in the Adams County Diversion Program._
> 
> _Attached is an application that must be brought to the Diversion Office, where his file will be further inspected. To be elligible, he must be currently enrolled in school or employed full-time. All candidates are sublect to both a personal and family interview._
> 
> _If Zayn Malik should be accapted to participate in the Diversion Program, further information will be given as to how the program works._
> 
> _Please contact Simon Cowell with any questions._
> 
> _Signed, Simon Cowell and the Adams County District Attourney_
> 
> _303-123-4567_

_  
_"Wow, Mum, you have to see this. Looks like I might not have to deal with a felony after all," Zayn said with a smile splitting his face. He chuckled under his breath as his mother read the letter. It reminded him a lot of the time he got a misdemeanor for lighting off fireworks when he was fifteen. Apparently the cop had driven by him and his friend several times, thinking they would notice him and stop what they were doing. They didn't see him and he had to write them tickets. Shortly after that, he got a letter offering to expunge the charge if he went to some fire saftey classes. It occurs to him then that if he had not dealt with that, he would never have been eligible to erase his felony. Thank Heaven for second chances.

     Zayn hears his mother gasp as her eyes widen and she covers her mouth in shock. She brings her fingers away from her mouth to tangle them in her hair as a smile so big it seemed uncomfortable takes over her face. Zayn is just about to say something but then he sees her begin to do that thing she does when she's excited where she runs in place on her toes and flails her arms and instead he opts to just mimic her because it's more fun that way. They decide to go and get frozen yoghurt in celebration and Zayn gets a little bit of a bunch of different flavors and all the toppings he can fit in the cup.

     "You know what this means, mum?" Zayn asks around a mouthful that is quickly going to give him a brain freeze. His mother raises her eyebrows in question and tilts her head. "It means that my life can be more than just shitty fast food jobs and crappy apartment buildings." They had spoken about what it meant to have a felony on his record many times before. Anything that required a background check would be out of the question for him. He was certain that his whole life went down the drain when he got arrested. But now he had a chance at the life he really wanted: to be a teacher or an art therapist with a handsome husband and a house with a yard.

     "Youre not off the hook yet, young man," his mother reminded him, though there was a smile playing on her lips, "there's still a lot of work ahead of you."

     "Yeah. I know. Lots of work..." Zayn said. "But that's what life is, right?" His mother nodded and Zayn went back to shoveling sweet frozen hopefulness into his mouth.

 

\----------------------------

 

     After a meeting with Simon in his tiny office with a big window and cheap furniture, Zayn found that all he had to do was come to weekly meetings and keep his grades up and and have clean drug tests and  _boom,_ problem solved. It sounded too good to be true. But suddenly as he was walking up the front steps to the office for his first meeting, he was scared shitless. What kind of people would be in there? Teenage felons. People who were much more rough and scary than him. Zayn looked a certain way with his tattoos and the way there was always a cigarette between his plush lips, but really he was just a nice guy with a big heart who has a tendancy to get roped into all kinds of bullshit. He was momentarily glad he had been too lazy to shave for the past week because his beard made a world of difference with how he looked. And right now he needed to stop his knobby knees from shaking beneath his black denim jeans and try to look like he could fuck shit up if he wanted to. Which, he probably could.

     Zayn was grinding his teeth during the elevator ride up to the third floor and he had to take a deep breath before he entered the Diversion Office. It was dominated by a long, gray counter, with the secretaries sitting behing thick panes of glass. There was at least some attempt to make it seem inviting though, with the chocolate brown couches and tastefully bland artwork that frankly he could have done better. But he didn't feel like he had enough air as he turned from checking in with the receptionist and saw a bunch of people, some of them looking as young as thirteen crowded on the couches and leaning against the walls. They were all staring at him with what seemed to be judgement in their eyes. Zayn let out a little huff and settled into a corner, pulling out his phone and clicking the screen randomly, tying to seem disinterested. 

     The door opened again and a young man who looked far too well groomed to be there walked in, trying to make his broad shoulders small. "Hello, I'm Liam Payne. I'm here for the meeting?" He seemed frightened by all the people in the room. Zayn didn't blame him. The receptionist told him to make himself comfortable. He turned to find a place to sit, but the couches were full, and there was no room to stand against any of the walls since Zayn had taken the last open place. Liam's eyes danced around the room and stopped on Zayn a few too many times. Zayn watched him shift on his feet and bite his thumbnail for another few seconds before he pushed off the wall and offered the boy his hand.

     "Hey, 'name's Zayn. You can come stand by me." He said with an encouraging smile before giving the kid next to where he was standing a look that caused him to budge over, making room for him and Liam.  

     "Liam. Good to meet you," Liam said. He seemed to relax the moment he was acknowledged and Zayn could see the tension melt away from his shoulders as chatter picked back up around them. He had a pleasant smile and warm brown eyes. They were a different shade compared to Zayn's own brown eyes, and seemed to hold an intrinsic happiness. 

     "What are you in for? If you don't mind my asking," Zayn inquired, grinding his lighter flint in his jacket pocket.

     Liam clawed at the back of his head and looked away, "Uh, no, I don't mind. It's pretty dumb though," he shrugged. Zayn lifted his eyebrows and nodded in encouragement. "Uh, well I wanted to get my sister a cool birthday gift, but I didn't have any money. So I went and raided the makeup department at Walmart. Would have made it too, if a couple bottles of nail polish hadn't fallen out of my pocket when I went to scratch my nose as I walked out." Zayn stared at him blankley for way too long. He finally blinked when the tips of Liam's ears were bright red. 

     "You got a felony for stealing a shit ton of makeup?" Zayn asked in a low voice so the other felons wouldn't hear. Wouldn't want to ruin Liam's streed cred, as if he had any. He was standing infront of Zayn with his cute little quiff and a peacoat sat atop khakis and converse. Liam merely nodded and examined the floor. Zayn clapped a hand on Liam's shoulder and caught his eye when he looked up, "Hey that's alright man. It's a funny story to tell the grandkids, eh?"

     "Yeah, I guess so," Liam said, and tilted to rest his head against the wall above his shoulder. "You're the only one who hasn't laughed."

     "Well a felony is a felony and it's still pretty hardcore," Zayn reminded him, mirrioring Liam's stance, who settled on rolling his eyes. Just then, Louis scuttled into the room and signed in at the desk. He turned and spotted Zayn. 

     Zayn had heard through the grapevine that when Louis was arrested, he was actually classified as a runaway and had been returned to the custody of his mother. It had been a couple months since the arrest and Louis was still skinny and frail, but seemed to have a little color in his eyes. Zayn wondered if Louis had many other clothes bacause those same gray pants were holding on to his hips for dear life, although he had a cable-knit sweater on today. It looked three sizes too big. There were still bags under his blue eyes, but he smiled with eye-crinkles when he saw Zayn.

     "Hey, man, how are you?" Louis asked, opening his arms to invite Zayn into a hug. There were still too many bones in the embrace, but Zayn could feel that there was a certain strength that hadn't been before.

     "I'm good. How ae you? This is Liam, he's a certified badass," Zayn said, and winked at Liam. Louis blinked hard a few times.

     "I'm alright. Not good. Not bad. Nice to meet you Liam," Louis responded and shook Liam's hand. "How's your mum?"

     "She's good. How's your...." Zayn stopped himself from asking about Louis' family. They had never been on good terms.

     Louis apparently took the pause to mean something else. "Um, I'm clean. They drug test for this program, so."

     "Oh, well that's great, Louis. I'm proud of you," Zayn said. They lapsed into an awkward silence. Zayn wondered if Louis blamed himself for the situation. He didn't think Louis should feel at fault. Zayn knew on some level what he was getting himself into by interacting with Louis. 

     There was a time in freshman year when Zayn and Louis were just absolutely  _looking_ for shit. They snuck away to their friend's house a few towns over and smoked enough pot to put Snoop Dogg to shame. It was an interesting night. He had never smoked before. He and Louis went into the dug-out window of a nearly empty basement and had a cigarette and when they came back in, there were thirteen people crowded around with pipes and steamrollers and bongs and vaporizers. Zayn was so high and his cotton mouth was so bad that he thought he was going to turn into a little pile of dust, hunkered down in a tight corner of the stoner circle. He was baked for two days srtaight and was so desperate for moisture, he had a pint of coffee flavored ice cream, and he hated coffee at the time. They tried to watch a Harry Potter movie on the projection screen in the living room of that disgusting townhouse, and Zayn had a panic attack during the bit where that girl gets posessed by that fucking lecklace. His mother was livid when they hopped in her van reeking of marijuana. But that was how their friendship was. They got into shit, got yelled at, and then got into more shit. Zayn was lucky he made it out alive after all the seedy houses and underground raves they went to together. He would probably have ended up in the hosital after Caffiene Music Festival when Louis fed him too much ecstacy. The God of second chances that always seemed to have Zayn's back is probably the same one that made those pills turn out to be bunk.

     But Louis was clean now, and Zayn was too. And Simon was coming through the door to take them to a meeting room. Liam looked over at Zayn with mild panic in his eyes, so Zayn bumped a skinny hip against his and gave him a smile. 

     "We can do this," he said, looking ad Liam and Louis. They nodded and followed him through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry for the gross inadequacies of the Diversion letter. i couldn't find the one they sent me, so i had to make it up
> 
> next chapter should be up fairly soon


	3. This Could Be My Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow so i just realized that this chapter has been chillin as a draft when I actually meant to publish it ages ago. im so sorry.

The conference room where the Diversion meeting was meant to be held had to be the most suffocatingly boring room Zayn had ever been in. It had the typical textured, low-pile carpeting that had a few runs missing out of it and there was not a single thing hanging on any of the walls. The space was too big to make the small conference table feel relevant, but judging by the half-circle of padded plastic chairs on the far side of the room, the table was unnecessary. The chairs were focused on a large projection screen in the front of the room as well as an over-sized pad of paper on an easel.

Simon directed the participants to the chairs, and Zayn took one between Louis and Liam. He took a better look at the other young people in the room. It seemed that everybody there had a knack for socializing with strangers as they struck up conversations with the people around them. Even Liam, who had apparently settled into the room was chatting with the slender young woman to his left.

Louis was shifting in his seat, adjusting and fiddling with the way his shirt fell across his stomach and biting at his nails.

“You alright, mate?” Zayn asked.

Louis looked over and gave a manufactured smile, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just nervous is all.”

Zayn smiled softly and patted him on the leg, “It’ll be okay, I’m just as nervous as you are.” Just then, Simon rolled the projection cart into place and nursed the old laptop attached to it to life, bringing up a powerpoint which had too much clip-art, even on the title page, to be taken seriously. He hushed the chatter and put on a voice that was much stronger than the one he had used in his tiny office when he spoke to Zayn alone.

“Welcome, everybody. I would like to begin with personal introductions, and then we can get started.” Before anybody could state their name, the door at the back of the room banged open and two young men crept in with wide eyes.

The taller of the two, who looked to be about sixteen, had his hands clasped in front of his long torso and an apologetic smile painted on his plush lips. He had tight, fluffy curls that framed his face, a strange sort of pushed-back quiff thing going on, and straight eyebrows drawn together above his green eyes. Zayn heard Louis gasp quietly beside him, and whisper, _damn_ to himself. Beside him was a skinny young man with blonde hair and dark roots who was wringing a grey and green snapback between his nimble fingers. He was gnawing on his bottom lip before he opened his mouth to say, “I’m so sorry we’re late, my car was having some trouble.”

Simon checked the clock, “It’s fine, you’re within the five minutes of the beginning of the meeting, no harm done. Find a seat.” As soon as they were forgiven, they immediately stood up straight and walked easily over to the circle of chairs like they weren't pretending to be sorry little knock-kneed trouble makers a few seconds before. The blonde one had a certain swagger to his walk, in the most classic sense of the word. The taller curly one was nothing more or less than relaxed as he chose a seat beside the blonde one and directly across from Louis.

“Seeing as all of the attention has been placed on you two anyway, why don’t you start the introductions? Just state your name and give us a fun fact about yourself,” Simon asked, looking pointedly at the curly one.

“Sure. My name is Harry Styles, and I fell up an escalator once,” he said, popping a dimpled smile even while the rest of the room stared at him blankly. He turned to his friend and nodded.

“I’m Niall Horan. I have no idea what a fun fact would be.. er… I have a bum knee I guess?” Niall shrugged and looked at the person to his left, who then introduced themselves. On it went, around the circle, until it came to Louis.

“M’name is Louis. Tomlinson. Um. I like… to skateboard?” Louis looked up from where he was studying the floor, and straightened his back, giving a firm nod, “Yeah.” Harry winked at him from across the circle and gave him a sly thumbs up, making Louis beam.

Zayn looked from Louis over to Simon and stated with more conviction in his voice than most of the other participants, “My name is Zayn Malik and I am an artist.” There were a couple of snorts around the circle. Of course there were, that was always the reaction that statement got from people his age.

Liam rubbed his palms on his skinny jeans and threw up a little wave, “My name is Liam Payne, and I like people who have a lot of tattoos.” Zayn glanced down at the sleeve he was working on and coughed involuntarily before finding Liam’s eyes on him. There was a tiny lift at the corners of his lips that he seemed to be trying to hide. Their gazed held for what seemed like ages as the rest of the people introduced themselves, but neither of them took notice.

Simon took the floor again when everybody was finished, and launched into a lecture about anger management. He flicked through slides that had just as much cheesy clip-art as the first, with the added effect of stupid animations. Zayn tuned most of it out, instead focusing on the people around him. Liam kept peeking over at him from the corner of his eye and fiddling with his own fingers. Niall was across the way, half asleep. Louis and Harry has seemingly fallen into some kind of conversation grounded in the nuances of body language.

Every time anybody outside of the people Zayn sort of respected in the group raised their hand to offer an answer or just general input, Zayn felt himself lose a few more brain cells. Sometimes, because of all the time spent hanging around decent, intelligent people, Zayn forgot how... not-smart people his age could be. He didn’t want to call them idiots, he really didn’t, because some of them were honestly trying; but. Just, like, wow. Zayn finally had to raise his hand and say something. When he did, he used what he considered an average vocabulary to get his point across and most of the people in the room looked back at him with big cow eyes.

“You’re, like, really smart, huh?” a boy with a rasta-colored beanie drawled.

“I suppose you could say that, yeah,” Zayn replied cautiously. Simon gave him a big smile and then broke down Zayn’s message into a more simple form for them.

Zayn pretty much mentally checked out at that point, choosing instead to pass notes back and forth with Liam, who was more than happy to indulge. By the end of the meeting, Niall was barely holding off his snores, and Zayn had Liam’s number. Simon dismissed them and they moved as a collective heard to leave the room. Everybody jammed themselves into the elevator, which groaned under the weight, and hurried out the door, only to stop on the front stairs and light up cigarettes as they awaited their rides.

“Do you need a ride or anything?” Zayn asked Louis as he lit his cigarette for him.

“No, my mother is coming to get me,” he replied, priming his cigarette before taking a long drag and exhaling through his nose. Liam walked up just then and wrinkled his nose at the smoke in the air. Zayn paused mid-drag and raised his eyebrows.

“Problem?”

“I don’t like the smoke, but I have to admit that you make it look good,” Liam replied. Zayn can honestly say that was the first time he had heard a complaint and a leer united so smoothly.

“Oh. Do I apologize or say thank you?”

“I don’t actually know,” Liam said with a shrug. He looked out at the parking lot and frowned. “I think my ride is here. Text me? If you want?” he looked so overly hopeful, with his bottom lip protruding ever so slightly that Zayn couldn’t stop a wide smile from splitting his face as he agreed. As he walked away, Zayn considered the fact that he may very well begin some kind of thing with a very fit guy who he met under the pretense of them both being felons. Beautiful.

Zayn looked over to see Louis passing his smoke to Niall. He, Louis and Harry were involved in a serious conversation about the merits of stoner-food. As they made room in their huddle for Zayn, Niall and Harry continued to list off all of the ways to make “gourmet” ramen.

“That all sounds delicious, actually,” Louis said in awe.

Harry snorted and laid a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “Thats fine and dandy, but I think a handsome guy like yourself deserves actual food. I will have to cook for you one of these days. What do you say?”

“Oh. I, Uh,” Louis frowned at his shoes and lost himself in thought for a minute. “Sure, Harry. Yeah. One of these days.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Right… Well I think Niall and I are gonna head out, but I have your number so…” Louis just smiled and nodded. Harry seemed reassured and walked backwards a few steps, dimpling at Louis. “See you next week.” He turned and walked away properly. Niall jumped on his back and punched his shoulder as they navigated the parking lot and Zayn barely caught something about “hitting that”.

Louis stubbed out his cigarette and Zayn studied him for a long moment. “Are you okay, Lou? Really?”

Louis took in a deep breath and let it escape in a huff from his lips. He slouched for a minute before straightening and looking back at Zayn. “I dunno, mate. I just don’t know. I guess I’m just out of sorts because I had to completely drop my old life and old friends. And it’s like, yeah, I know that those weren't good people to call friends, but, y’know. They’re what I had. And I guess I'm a bit out of practice with the whole 'interaction between sober people' thing.”

Zayn flicked his cigarette butt and nodded at the ground, debating his next words. The thing about Louis was, you wanted to believe in him. At his best he was a magnificent beast, full of energy and wit. Zayn had only caught glimpses of Louis at his worst, and that was… well. Louis was a fragile person at heart. It took a lot to break him, but he had been broken so many times that Zayn imagined he might have trouble finding the pieces to get himself together again. Louis had made claims of changing for the better in the past, and those hadn't really worked out. Zayn loved him, he really did, but he knew that Louis could be toxic and Zayn didn’t own a hazmat suit.

But outside the Diversion office in the fading evening light, Zayn got a feeling. Feelings happen often for him. Sometimes they’re hard to understand, but this feeling was definite. Zayn had to stick by Louis now. He had to. And so, he looked back up at Louis and smiled.

“You have me, now,” he said. Louis stared at him. And stared. He finally blinked and suddenly his lip started to wobble. He wrapped his thin arms around his gaunt figure and slowly folded in on himself.

“Thank you, Zayn. So much. It really means a lot,” Louis said in a thin, wavering voice.

“Hey, now, friend, none of that,” Zayn cooed, pulling the trembling boy into a tight hug. Louis buried his face into Zayn’s neck and sniffled. They stood like that until Louis relaxed and straightened up out of the embrace.

“Oh and also,” Zayn began with a smirk, “You and Harry? Is that some kind of a thing I saw?”

Louis blushed furiously and smiled at his feet, tucking his hands into his pockets and raising his shoulders. “I dunno, maybe you and Liam can discuss it over tea sometime.”

“I. You. Shut up,” Zayn laughed, pulling out his keys. He fiddled with the Space Needle key chain and willed the smile from his lips. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Right. Sure. Whatever,” Louis said with the most mischievous grin he could muster. He looked over to where a black SUV had pulled up and his face dropped. “There’s my mother. I’ll see you, yeah?”

“Yeah. Text me if you need anything, alright? Even just somebody to talk to,” Zayn said earnestly. Louis nodded and walked away, shoulders slouched and head hung low.

 

\--------------------------

 

The Saturday after the first meeting, Zayn was about ready to rip his hair out. He had been trying to study for his next biology exam, but he really had no fucks to give about what defined organisms as chordates versus anything else. He shoved his textbook back in his backpack and stood up. He put his hands on his head and just stared around his room for a bit.

Art. Work on some art. He pulled out the piece he was working on and laid out all of his supplies. Zayn tried to focus on getting the base sketch just right for about thirty minutes before he realized the sad state of his eraser, as used up as it was, and looked back at the drawing. It was all shit. Just fucking bullshit.

Fuck this drawing.

Fuck his brain that couldn’t think.

Fuck everything.

He needed to leave, to get out of the house a bit. There were often times when Zayn would have this inexplicable need to just leave wherever he was. Sometimes it was school, his house, or even whatever store he was in. There was just this thing in his brain that would short out and he needed to get to somewhere else. This was one of those times.

The city was calling his name, he could feel it. Zayn’s house was only about twenty minutes away from Downtown, and it was easy to just jump on the highway and get there.

Zayn loved the city, is the thing. He didn’t like navigating the streets by car, or the parking situation, but once he was there, his mind went quiet. He could look at the people passing him on the street and understand that they did not give two shits about his problems or his successes. It was so refreshing. He had so many people in his life who cared about all the stuff he was doing, bless them, but sometimes he just wanted to get lost in a crowd. Zayn wanted to feel small sometimes, and being lost among skyscrapers and countless people on a busy street was the perfect way to achieve that. No matter how many medications Zayn took, or how well they worked, he still felt like too much. There was too much happening within his being. He had so many thoughts, so many ideas, so many worries. They all seemed to inflate under his skin and make him feel like a monster that was a hundred feet high. Those that knew him knew that he really was a monster, but only on the inside. It always seemed to Zayn that they were watching and waiting for that monster to burst forth and fuck everything up.

The nature of Zayn’s beast was to either beat him and his spirit to a pulp, leaving him lame and pathetic, or to possess him and wreck havoc on his relationships and responsibilities. Heaven knows that either avenue only leads to a sudden cliff.

But there in the city, Zayn was not too much. He was just a tiny spec of humanity. He was just another face that people would pass on the street. His beast, his monster, was intimidated by the noise and the chaos of the city. It had no choice but to shrink quietly back into a nice compartment within Zayn’s brain that he could actually handle.

Just as Zayn was making himself comfortable on a dirty bench somewhere along the strip of the shopping mall with a cup of black coffee and the promise of good people-watching, he spotted a head of short brown hair and a black pea-coat.

“Liam! Over here!” he shouted, standing and waving to get the other man’s attention. Liam turned from where he had been looking in a shop window and squinted around the people passing by. His face positively lit up once he spotted Zayn. He dodged several rabid shoppers on his way over to sit next to Zayn, shoulders brushing.

“Hey. I wasn’t expecting to see you down here. What are you up to?” Liam asked, beaming at Zayn.

“Yeah, this is a pleasant surprise. I am just here to clear my head and do a bit of people-watching. What brings you to Downtown on this fine evening?”

“That’s fun. I just kind of got in the car and ended up here. I love the city, especially at night.”

“Yeah, me too,” Zayn said. He took a sip of his coffee and looked over at Liam who had a serene smile resting on his lips. He could see where the city light was reflected in his eyes and considered the possibility that Liam could be one of the more beautiful humans he had come in contact with. “So do you wanna chill out for a while, then?” Zayn asked. He really wasn’t sure why a wave of nerves rolled over him as the words met the open air.

“Absolutely, on one condition,” Liam said slowly.

“What’s that?”

“You have to let me take you to this amazing little Italian joint a few blocks over. It’s just a hole in the wall place but the bread sticks are to die for,” Liam said.

Zayn stroked his beard and pretended to be really undecided. Liam shifted next to him and Zayn thought he might actually be holding his breath. After letting him sweat a bit more, Zayn stood up and stretched, looking down at Liam. “Alright, let’s go. You're buying.”

“Naturally,” Liam replied.

Zayn was 89% sure this was a date, but the evidence was yet to be seen.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright so yeah the next chapter will be about their date and stuff ugh

**Author's Note:**

> i THINK there will be four chapters for this, but i could be wrong. new update coming whenever?


End file.
